


I hated you, I loved you too

by CadetDru



Series: cup of coffee [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Asexual Relationship, Canon Asexual Character, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Meet-Cute, No Fear Entities (The Magnus Archives), Romantic Fluff, Tea, no beta we live like archives assistants, slow burn on speedrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-28 02:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: As a general rule, Jon hated customers who'd say "surprise me" or "whatever you like best" when he was just trying to take their drink order.  He served too many customers to be able to keep it in mind. So, he would take the "surprise me" and turn it into black coffee, room for milk.   If they weren't too annoying, he would even do his best to choose something that they might actually like, try out different flavor combinations on willing subjects.One "whatever you like best" turned into "earl gray latte."(Coffeeshop AU -- Jon works there, Martin spends too much time and money there)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: cup of coffee [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2217660
Comments: 71
Kudos: 117





	1. don't lose your nerve

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to NotusLethe and a lot of other people on Discord for continuing to watch me spin my anxieties into coffeeshop AUs.

Jon hated coffee. And people. He hated greeting people with a smile when they came into his coffee shop. He hated the smell of coffee in his hair. He hated that he worked at a coffee shop, that it had slowly taken over his identity. He hated that he tried to convince himself that he hated everything.

As a general rule, Jon hated customers who'd say "surprise me" or "whatever you like best" when he was just trying to take their drink order. He served too many customers to be able to keep it in mind. So, he would take the "surprise me" and turn it into black coffee, room for milk. If they weren't too annoying, he would even do his best to choose something that they might actually like, try out different flavor combinations on willing subjects.

One "whatever you like best" turned into "earl gray latte." Earl Gray Latte came in for the poetry group every Thursday. Other times, he came in with what seemed to be a small study group. He'd come in on his own at least once a week and hunch over a notebook. He'd adopted the cafe as a comfortable place to work. Jon sneered at the idea to himself.

Earl Gray Latte had no idea what he liked to drink. Nor did he acknowledge that he was a regular and that Jon knew what he liked to drink even if he didn't. He liked to make pleasant conversation with Jon, but each time was just as superficial as the last. He didn’t push to get to know Jon any deeper. He seemed scared to ask too much. He was a big guy with a big smile. He seemed like he would be good at giving hugs. It got under Jon's skin, an itch that he couldn't scratch. 

Jon smiled when he came in, but it was a wry and vaguely displeased smile. Earl Gray Latte was always so apologetic for not knowing what he might like. Jon had developed a technique to give him the drink that seemed to please him the most. He didn't come in at consistent times, so Jon wasn't always able to produce the drink as soon as he came to the register. If that meant that Jon got to talk quietly with him a bit longer, that wasn't a real hardship.

Jon would brew a concentrate of earl gray on the days that he assumed Earl Gray Latte would come in. The days of the poetry group were all but guaranteed. He would use it to form the base of a blended drink, add in vanilla bean powder, and then add the tea leaves. He’d take it all and blend it twice. Every step was carefully crafted to give the drink that he knew Earl Gray Latte would like. He successfully stopped himself from introducing a heart motif at any point in the process. It wasn't a labour of love, an act of service designed to bring a personal joy. It was just his labour.

On one of the surprise visits, Earl Gray Latte started to walk up to the register, looking at the menu like he always did. Like that would change anything. He stopped suddenly when his phone rang. His face fell as he stepped to the side. Jon started his drink. He couldn't hear the phone call, could only sneak little glances at Earl Gray Latte.

Earl Gray Latte went to sit down without approaching the register. He hadn't left altogether, so he clearly could still use the drink. The poetry group wasn't meeting, so that couldn't be why he was there. He didn't get out his notebook, didn't move to watch the door. He was just collecting himself.

Jon brought him his drink when it was ready. Jon moved to lay a hand on Earl Gray Latte's shoulder before remembering that this was a real person that he did not know at all. "Everything alright?" he asked.

Big eyes met Jon's own, then flicked down to the drink. "I didn't order yet."

"You always get the same thing," Jon said. It wasn't an answer, barely an explanation.

"I didn't pay." Earl Gray Latte fiddled with a lock of his curly hair. 

Jon wanted to reach out and touch Earl Gray Latte's hair. "My treat," he said, keeping his hands to himself. He was just being friendly. An annoying customer was becoming an annoying acquaintance. 

“Thank you," Earl Gray Latte said, so sincerely grateful it could break your heart.

"Is the drink alright, at least?" Jon asked. It was something 

"It's perfect. It's always perfect when you make it."

Whatever stabbing Jon felt in his ribs was just an unfortunate medical predicament. No emotional meaning behind it. "So, what's wrong?"

"It's okay. You're working, you don't need to worry about me."

"I am worried about you,” Jon said. He felt entitled to worry, not that it was earned in the slightest.

"About my scaring off your non-miserable customers?"

"About your distracting the staff." He cleared his throat. "So, is it the poetry, your classes, or some sort of your life that is outside of this coffee shop?"

“The poetry. There was going to be a spotlight and a reading at the library-- well, not the library, a library-- but they’re going with someone else.” Earl Gray Latte abruptly stopped. "And I'm sorry to be taking up your time."

“You’re upset over a poetry contest?” Jon said. 

Earl Gray Latte nodded.

“At a library, not the library,” Jon said, repeating Earl Gray Latte’s particular phrase.

“I work at a research library,” Earl Gray Latte said. “That’s the library. Everywhere else is just a library.”

I thought you were waiting for a date who’d cancelled on you.”

Earl Gray Latte laughed, too loudly. He looked around, seemingly assessing his environment for its suitability. “I could not bring someone here.”

“We’re a very romantic setting,” Jon scoffed. He wasn’t entirely clear on what point he was trying to make. He certainly didn’t want Earl Gray Latte to come in with some equally indecisive fool. 

“If it went badly, then I could never come back here.” He took a drink. “That would be two bad things.” He smiled, thinking of someone or something else. 

Jon wanted to know what he was thinking of. Jon wanted to know where he would take a date. Jon wanted to know where he worked and why he was this upset. Jon wanted to know why he had assumed both that Earl Gray Latte was waiting for a date and that his date wasn’t coming. Jon wanted to know so much about him. He cleared his throat. “Well, as long as you’re feeling better… I should get back to work.”

Jon ignored Earl Gray Latte the rest of the time that the would-be poet was there. He didn’t watch him, didn’t see his resolve come back. He did nod when a cheery “bye” floated his way, and he did smile for far too long afterwards.


	2. pack and get dressed

Earl Gray Latte was starting to notice Jon when he came in. He didn’t know what to order, but he was trying to think of something different. Jon couldn’t swear to it, but the few times that Earl Gray Latte ordered some plain coffee drink had to have been a test. Jon just made him what he had been making him, calmly and quietly explaining each time the subtle mistakes in the random combinations that Earl Gray Latte had strung together. He thanked Jon every time, seemingly sincerely. 

Some switch had been flicked, and now a spotlight was turned on Jon every time he came in. Permission had been granted to interact with Jon like a fellow human being. Jon hated it, hated that there was a difference, hated that he could now feel eyes on him where before he would have felt nothing at all. The idea of being seen was more than a little horrifying. 

And that was all of it. Earl Gray Latte saw him, and seemed content with that. He was so smug about it. Either smug or scared. There was no reason for anyone to be scared of Jon. Jon seemed to absorb caffeine through his skin, through the air, and never had a need to eat or sleep. 

Jon’s hair was getting long enough that all he ever did was pull it back into a braid or bun. When he did, he got a headache from the weight of it at the back of his skull, from the tendrils. He resisted the impulse to just chop it at the hair elastic with the kitchen shears. He actually made an appointment and let a professional handle it. He got it cut short back and sides, longer on top so it still had some wave to it. There was more gray than he had been anticipating.

He kept the detached ponytail, briefly considering delivering it to whoever had last fallen in a shallow connection with it. There wasn't anyone who was fixated on that feature. There wasn't anyone fixated at all. He was just more aware of his own skin, his own needs. 

He tried not to run his hands over the fuzz that had taken the place of his low braid or of the short locks in the place where the bun had precariously sat. He felt more comfortable in his own skin already. 

Earl Gray Latte stared, even as his own curls sprung and frizzed from the rain. His not being able to order wasn't anything. Jon went to work making his usual drink. It would be one of the infrequent drinks that Jon would pay for himself. Earl Gray Latte seemed more taken aback than awestruck. Jon almost felt more comfortable that way, if not a little insulted.

"I think it works," Earl Gray Latte said when he found his words.

"Me too," Jon said. He couldn't think of any other way to respond.

"You're adorable either way," Earl Gray Latte said. 

"I'm hardly trying to inspire adoration."

"No, I'm not… I didn't mean me," Earl Gray Latte said. His hand twitched. "Sorry. Thanks. I'll just... leave you to it."


	3. sing us a song

One day, turning into one evening, Earl Gray Latte stayed till the cafe closed.Usually he left much earlier.The poetry group had been making vague plans to go out for drinks.Alcohol would counteract all the caffeine. 

Earl Gray Latte was getting close to being in the way. He was well aware of the time.He kept checking his very dated analog wristwatch.

"If you have somewhere else to be," Jon said as he wiped down the other tables. "Please, don't let me keep you."

"No," Earl Gray Latte said. "I mean, yes, actually, but no, that's why I'm still here."He was stammering, he was blushing, he was doing every sweetly appealing thing he had in his arsenal. 

Jon just didn't know what he wanted and said as much. "Is there something specific that you want from me?"

"Yes, I just… if you're not busy when you're done here, I was thinking you could come get drinks.With the group."

"Drinks," Jon repeated. 

“I know you don’t particularly like our poetry, but you’re basically one of the group.You should come.If you want to.”Earl Gray Latte was already withdrawing, pulling away like he’d been burnt. 

"So, you stayed this late to ask me out," Jon said flatly.He was relieved to have the

"I'm not asking you out," Earl Gray Latte protested."There's just drinks and a show, and you don't have to come with me or come at all but maybe you would like to just go to this place?"

Jon waited to see if Earl Gray Latte had anything else to say. When it was clear that he was done, Jon nodded. "Alright, so where are we going?"

Earl Gray Latte tripped all over himself to give Jon the name of the venue, the exact address, GPS coordinates, and directions. He wanted to be sure that Jon would not get lost.He also wanted Jon to be sure that there was no pressure. Jon had to clean up the cafe and change.Earl Gray Latte had to go and celebrate his victory of being nonchalant.

Jon decided not to go home and change. He wasn't going to stay very long, so it would be rude to come late and leave early.There wouldn't be a repeat occurrence.Jon had to work in the morning.Smelling like coffee was just a way of life. He'd shower when he got home, fall into bed, read until he fell asleep, and start the process over.

It was easy to spot Earl Gray Latte even in a crowd of people.He was of a rather substantial size.He didn't loom, not deliberately, but he took up a quantity of space that made it impossible for him to fade away. The eye caught on him.

Earl Gray Latte was at the fringe of a clutch of poets.His eyes lit up when he saw Jon. "What do you want to drink?"

"What are you having?"

"I got a cocktail," Earl Gray Latte said."I honestly don't know what's in it."

"This is what you're like," Jon said."Just wherever you go."

Earl Gray Latte frowned.

"Do you come here often?" Jon said. He didn't since at the obvious line. He hadn't meant it as one, so he trusted that it wouldn't be taken as one.

"Sometimes," Earl Gray Latte admitted. "Jeremy makes the best drinks."

"And you don't know what they are,"Jon said.

"Not at all," Earl Gray Latte said sheepishly.

"Just like the tea that I make you,"Jon said. "So this is really just what you're like."

Earl Gray Latte frowned.Jon just shook his head, and the two of them went up to the far together. "Jeremy," Earl Gray Latte said to grab the staff's attention

Jeremy the bartender smiled at Jon. He was distressingly familiar, thin and dark with long hair pulled back. "I'll have whatever you made for him," Jon said, tilting his head to the 

"You must be Jon," Jeremy said. "He's been waiting for you all night."

"Hardly all night," Earl Gray Latte sputtered.

"What did you make for him?" Jon asked. Earl Gray Latte was excluded from the conversation. 

"Amaretto sour," Jeremy said.

"That sounds terrible," Jon said. "I'll have a G & T."

Earl Gray Latte deflated a bit. 

Jeremy laughed. "Come on, you know what Martin's like. He just wants to make life easier for everyone."

"Thank you," Earl Gray Latte said, taking it as a compliment.It was emphatically not one.

Jon successfully stopped himself from asking who this "Martin" was.Earl Gray Latte had a name, out in the world, that Jon had not given him.This was to be expected.

Jon graciously took his gin and tonic when it was completed.He and Earl Gray Latte returned to the rest of the poets.Jon's presence was entirely welcome, with no sidelong glances or knowing smiles.It was just taken for granted that he was there.

"Are you coming to the show?" one woman-- Natalie? Naomi?-- asked.

Jon didn't ask what show, just shook his head. "I'm working the opening shift tomorrow morning." Sounds of condolence and commiseration at that.

"You didn't have to come tonight then," Earl Gray Latte said. He was frowning. 

"I'd hate to miss an opportunity," Jon said.Unable to will the words back into his mouth, he kept going. "Always good to see people out of their element."

"Just what I had been thinking," Earl Gray Latte said.

"Another time."

People started to peel away to get to the next venue.Earl Gray Latte lingered. "Can I walk you to your station or your stop or..."

"Or my flat?" Jon finished.He wasn't expressing himself clearly."No, I'll make it home alright."

Earl Gray Latte nodded. He looked miserable about it, biting his lower lip.

"I really did have fun.Good to see the human side of people."

Earl Gray Latte nodded. He was so impassive. Jon wanted them to have each other's contact information, to be able to arrange something again. He just didn't know how to say it.

"So, you could call me.We could set something up for when you don't have to be up at dawn."

Jon nodded.He entered his information into the other man's phone, and quickly received a call that he declined while making eye contact.He saved the name as Earl Gray Latte, with a note of Martin. It wouldn't do not to know who he was talking to.

"And, uh, you could text me or call me when you get home.Just so I know you got there safe."

"Since I won't let you personally supervise," Jon said, trying to make it a teasing question.

"So I won't worry," Earl Gray Latte said in that soft voice he had.

Jon just nodded.They didn't hug or even shake hands,just awkwardly stood there until they walked away.

Jon almost forgot to text Earl Gray Latte when he got home.When he did, the response he got was instantaneous.He didn't text him first thing in the morning, despite a wicked little desire to wake the other up so early.Instead he waited until his first break at work to text and ask how the show was. Earl Gray Latte texted back quickly enough, but didn't come in that day. He even made some excuses over text for it, about how busy his day was and how tired he was. Jon didn't suggest a carefully crafted tea would help with being tired. 


	4. get dressed

Jon was taking a cigarette break and texting Earl Gray Latte.He wanted to convey the sense that he missed him, without actually coming close to using those words.

Jack came out to disrupt his quiet reverie."Your friend's here," Jack said.

"Georgie?" Jon said, stubbing out his cigarette. She was the only person who would visit him at work and identify 

"No, Mr. 'Surprise Me.'" This has been the original name for Earl Gray Latte, before Jon had given him his own identity.

Jon followed Jack back inside."Did you make him an earl gray latte?" Jon said because he wouldn't ask if Earl Gray Latte had commented on Jon's absence.

"Just a regular one," Jack said. “He didn’t say anything, but I figure he wanted to see you. Don’t discourage him too much.”

Jon didn’t answer.

Jack immediately started to backtrack. “I mean, obviously, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do and I don’t want to be the sort of person who tells you to flirt with the customers but… he seems nice. He might be worth your getting to know.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jon said. 

Jon went to clean up, wash away traces of cigarette smoke, and carefully examine his reflection for any trace of lovesickness. He’d promised Jack to consider engaging in some kind of interaction with Earl Gray Latte. Jon ran his hand through his shortened hair, trying to find the best way for it lay.He cleaned his glasses on his shirt.He stepped out, refastened his apron and went about his usual business.

Earl Gray Latte was staring at his phone, hesitantly typing. Unusually he’d be eagerly looking around him, absorbing all that he saw.Instead he was drawn in on himself. His normal latte was untouched next to him. He was completely focused on his phone.

Something had to be wrong. Some family emergency or some new poetry disappointment.Jon couldn’t interrupt because Jon couldn’t help. 

Jon's pocket dinged. He tried to discreetly check the notification.He saw the message had been received from Earl Gray Latte (Martin) and that was more than enough information for him. He chuckled as he put his phone back in his pocket.

“Jon!” Earl Gray Latte said when he saw him. 

“Hi,” Jon returned, because while he had the note of “Martin” it still didn’t feel right. This was Earl Gray Latte, and if no one else knew it that was fine by Jon. “I was on break when you came in.”

“Explains how you were texting me,” Earl Gray Latte said. 

Jon just nodded. “Just needed a cigarette.You know how it is.”

Earl Gray Latte was immediately frowning.“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t,” Jon said. Lying was never his strong suit. “I mean, I quit.I mostly quit.”

“Your voice…” Earl Gray Latte started.He stopped, blushing.He seemed to always be blushing when Jon looked at him.

“Yes?” Jon prompted. 

“Well, I mean. People have told me that they know that I don't smoke, that I’ve never smoked.Because of my voice.”

“I like your voice,” Jon said. It suited him, soft and high, even it seemed incongruous with his stature.Earl Gray Latte tended to be curled around, trying to meet people eye to eye.

“I like yours,” Earl Gray Latte said.Jon had to snap himself out of measuring the other man’s shoulder span. They were talking about voices.Jon had too much voice for his own frame. “And now I know what’s caused, I’m honestly disappointed in myself.So destructively shallow.”

“You texted me, but I haven’t read it,” Jon said.

“Do you want to get dinner tonight?”

“Sure,” Jon said.

“As a date?”

“Yes,” Jon said. He could feel himself grinning, couldn’t pull it back. “I would very much like to go out on a date with you tonight.”

Jon managed to excuse himself after showing what he thought was too much naked enthusiasm. Earl Gray Latte left not too long after, smiling broadly as he went.Jon waited ten minutes after he’d left to ask if he could leave early. 

Jon showered away the coffee and cigarettes that clung to his skin and his hair.He considered trying to wear contacts instead of glasses, but decided to be more consistent in his appearance.He wore a t-shirt and track pants as he pulled everything out of his closet. He called Georgie on speakerphone as he moved garments around.It wasn’t like he had a lot to work with. 

“Georgie, this is not an emergency but I need advice.”

“Alright,” Georgie said carefully.

“I have a date tonight and I don't know what to wear,” Jon said. “We’re just going to some restaurant. I’ve got the details in a text, but I'm on the phone with you.”

“What do you normally wear for dates?” Georgie said.

“What did I wear for our last one?” Jon said.

“You’d stolen my hoodie,” Georgie said.

“Was that why we broke up?” Jon said.He was trying to keep it light. He was failing.“I think I still have it.”

“You can’t wear your ex’s hoodie for a first date,” Georgie said calmly and clearly.

“But black is very flattering on me,” Jon said. He wasn’t sure if it was their first date, if drinks counted, if the scattered times he’d paid for the latte counted. 

“Black shirt and jeans,” Georgie declared.

“Jeans, really?” Jon said.

“Well, let’s go about this the other way. How does he dress?”

Jon considered. “He wears the softest jumpers.He probably won’t see what I’m wearing. He has auburn curls that fall over his eyes. He’s about a head taller than me.”

“Your dark green shirt and black trousers?”

“Is that not too pseudo-academic?” Jon said. “He works in a library. I don’t want him to think I’m emulating him.”

“He sounds nice,” Georgie said.

“He is,” Jon said. “I think. I’m not entirely sure why he’s asked me out.”

“Free coffee?”

“That’s not funny,” Jon said.

“I don’t think anyone would pretend to enjoy your company just for free coffee.”

“Thank you,” Jon said. He looked at the time on the phone.“I’m going to be late if I don’t go.Thank you, again.”

“Let me know how it goes!”

Jon disconnected the call and got dressed.He left the discarded clothes where they lay; it wasn't like he'd be bringing Earl Gray Latte back to his place. He rushed out the door, wanting to be early rather than late.


	5. before all hell breaks loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Earl Gray Latte gets a new name and Jon rejects a new name of his own.

Jon hadn't been on a first date in a while. Not necessarily longer than he'd care to admit to, but that was because he'd committed himself to a life of misanthropy. He knew the general rules of dating as an adult. It had already been established that it was a date, so there was a lot of confusion already done away with.

Jon was early to dinner, but he expected Earl Gray Latte to have beat him ton the restaurant. Surely Jon wasn’t the most eager one. As it was, he was still discreetly trying to look around the dining area when Earl Gray Latte came in.

“Hi,” Earl Gray Latte said sunnily. 

“Hi,” Jon said. It didn’t matter that they’d just seen each other. This was deliberate and named. They were together, alone on a date, out of choice. All clever pretense was gone. 

They sat down, awkwardly and made small talk, awkwardly. Jon couldn't let more than ten minutes go by before he had to ask: “Why did you decide to ask me out?” 

“I like you,” Earl Gray Latte said simply and sincerely. It was not a satisfactory answer. Jon wasn't necessarily fishing for compliments, just confused about what could make a .

“I’m not everyone’s…” Jon trailed off, not wanting to complete the phrase

“Cup of tea?” Earl Gray Latte supplied. He actually met Jon's eyes when he smiled.

Jon frowned. “I think you’re my cup of tea,” Jon said, trying to soften the blow. Earl Gray Latte smiled, not in on the joke. Jon wasn’t trying to overly claim him. 

They settled into the conversation, comparing upbringings and plans. The past, present, and future were itemized and laid out in the best possible ways. They painted big things with broad strokes so they could let the smaller things fill in between them. 

“You look so different with your hair short,” Earl Gray Latte blurted. They were supposed to be talking about Jon’s cheekbones and neck. He was supposed to be getting complimented. Instead it had a critical note to it.

"Do you like it?" Jon asked.

"I was really surprised. I didn't think you would. Long hair seemed so much a part of you, of who… I don't know, who I saw you as." Earl Gray Latte shrugged.

“You’ve been holding that back for a while," Jon said.

“You look good. You looked good. You just look different.” Earl Gray Latte pulled at one of his curls. “I’ve never grown my hair as long as you had it.”

“As long as I’m still pretty without it,” Jon said.

“You are," Earl Gray Latte said.

“There’s supposed to be a pause for polite laughter,” Jon said.

“Sorry, I only had eager agreement.” Earl Gray Latte laughed. "I didn’t want to be… I don’t know, that customer, assuming staff liked me back." 

"You’re not that customer," Jon said. "His name’s Jared. You’re very different." 

"I wanted to ask you out, but…" Earl Gray Latte trailed off, blushing.

"Yeah, I know," Jon said.

Earl Gray Latte squared his shoulders. "But here I am, out to dinner with Barista Without Braid."

"With who?" Jon said.

Earl Gray Latte's shoulders rounded themselves again. "Jon. Pretty sure I said Jon."

"Barista without braid?" Jon said.

"Your braid is gone," Earl Gray Latte said. "It's accurate."

"So, you wanted to ask out Barista With Braid?" Jon said.

"Yes. No. I mean, I clearly was a year away from being able to ask out Barista With Braid. I was intimidated."

"This is what I should expect of Earl Gray Latte," Jon said, carefully giving voice to the often-thought-of name.

"Of who?" Earl Gray Latte said.

Jon realized he had backed himself into a corner. "You know, sometimes customers get nicknames. Regulars, like you. Well, Jack still calls you Mr. 'Surprise Me' but I don't think you've ever said it. You just don't know what you like."

"Which is an earl gray latte?" he asked. 

"Which is what I make for you every time, yes. You are what you...drink." Jon said.

"So I'm an earl now."

"It's just a name." Jon said.

"My name's Martin," Earl Gray Latte said. Jon hated to tell him that he was wrong.

"My name's Jon." Jon said.

Earl Gray Latte bit his lower lip. "I don't know, I like Bwob better. Too many John's in the world already."

"EGL is worse than Martin." Jon said. "I can offer you Gray."

Earl Gray Latte nodded. "I like Gray," he said, making the change officially unofficial. "Our first date and you already have a pet name for me."

"A nickname," Jon said.

"Whatever you'd like to call it," Gray said. "I think it's a good sign."

"So, am I Barista or Braid or Without or… what'd you say?"

"Bwob. Barista without…"

"Right," Jon said crisply. "What would you like to call me?"

Gray hesitated. "I'm trying to find a way to turn that into my asking to call you for a second date, but I can't get the words to go in the right order."

"We'll go on another date," Jon said. "But name will you call me?"

"We will," Gray said.

"Well, I'm assuming you want to."

"Yes," Gray said, starting to stammer. "I mean, yes, Jon that would be… shit."

"What's wrong?" Jon said.

"Jon," Gray said.

"Yes, what's wrong?" Jon said. There was something almost panicked in Gray's voice.

"No, I mean I called you Jon," Gray said. "That's apparently your new nickname."

"Your pet name for Barista Without Brain," Jon said.

"Well, it's what Jon is usually short for, isn't it?"

They lingered too long in the restaurant, eventually getting enough dirty looks to realize it was time to go. Jon braced to explain why a kiss wouldn’t happen for this first date. It was brazen of him to assume that Gray would want to kiss him. No explanation was necessary. A sunny smile and a promise to talk soon, a request to be notified when Jon got home safe. That was it.


	6. can't do this alone

Gray and Jon went on more dates. Gray still came to the cafe, just not as much on his own when Jon was working. It made a kind of sense; he couldn't take up Jon's time chatting when Jon was there to work. He didn't stay away altogether but Jon still missed him. 

Gray and Jon were walking. They had plans to meet up with some of Jon's friends. Jon wasn't particularly relishing more social obligations so they were taking their time. They'd been looking forward to the show, and Jon hoped that it would be Gray's kind of thing. It was more of a band than a theatrical performance. Gray apparently didn't like theater. 

Jon wasn't wearing many layers because he anticipated getting too hot in the cramped room at the gig. Being in a room full of other people enthusiastically singing along with songs he only sort of knew was stifling in its own way. On the walk to the venue,

Jon was trying not to shiver. Gray took off his scarf and put it around him. It was black and soft and textured in some complicated way that Jon didn't understand. It was like a twisting braid on top of the rectangle. Jon blushed. Trying to take Gray's attention away from it, he rubbed the fabric between his fingers “Thank you. This is lovely. where’d you get it?”

Gray's smile stretched too far and wide. “Good, um, it’s actually a gift.”

“Oh, who from?” Jon said. He hadn't met any of Gray's friends outside the poetry group. He didn't think any of them knit. He didn't think of them knit and would go to this amount of labor.

“No. Uh. From me to you. I thought I’d wear it because it might seem a bit weird to bring a present to a date but… I just thought…” Gray sputtered. “I wasn’t going to tell you any of this. It’s one of the best scarves I made. I was just going to keep it for myself.”

“That seems a bit selfish.” Jon straightened how the scarf hung off of him. “Very nice. I don’t know knitting at all. This seems complicated.”

“It’s actually not," Gray said. "I mean, I've been working on it for a while but it's not really complicated."

“When did you find time to work on it?” Jon said. They hadn't been dating for that long. 

“Oh, that’s easy. I always have a project I can fit in my bag. This didn't start off as a gift for you. It just turned out that way. I hope you like it.”

"I like the colors," Jon said. Black with flecks of silver. He looked up at Gray who was blushing.

"Yeah, I don’t… I paint or draw or anything so when I see color combinations I like it either comes out in my poetry or through my knitting. So, I saw this black and it…"

He stopped talking.

“And it?” Jon prompted.

“Do you ever get a crush on someone purely aesthetically? Someone nice to look at as you go about your day? It’s like they’re art, a painting you pass on your way into the office."

"Not really," Jon said.

"Or you just like someone and you’re not sure if you like them or you want to be them?"

"How does this lead to your giving me this scarf that you made?" Jon said.

"I made it about you before I made it for you. It started off as something I'd just work on when I was daydreaming, just something to do with my hands while my mind wandered. I wanted to try out this yarn, I wanted to try different patterns. And I found myself thinking about you. About Barista With Braid. So, the cabling sort of made me think of the texture of your hair. And I'd picked out the color because of your hair. This is basically a manifestation of my liking you. That isn't poetry. Sorry."

"No, this is sweet. Because it’s you." Jon ran his fingers over the fabric. "Thank you."

Jon did not say that it was the sweetest, most bizarre, most heartfelt gift that he'd ever gotten from a partner. He didn't because they hadn't gotten to a point of calling one another boyfriend yet, and it didn't seem the right topic to broach on a crowded sidewalk before going into an uncrowded gig. 

He kept the scarf on, when they sighted Georgie and her girlfriend Melanie. Awkward introductions all around: he had to refer to Gray as Martin which was always mildly confusing for him. Gray went to fetch a round of drinks. Georgie went with him to help carry them and interrogate them. Jon just kept running his fingers over the soft knots of the scarf, trying to tease out how it worked.

"Nice scarf," Melanie said. "Your new boyfriend make that?"

Jon just nodded. It seemed easier that way. 

"He seems nice. Georgie will find out, I suppose."

"If I haven't been able to scare him off, she certainly can't." 

Gray and Georgie came back. Both seemed happy. Jon was mildly terrified. He leaned up to kiss Gray's cheek. "What'd you get?"

"Well, since you and Melanie both were getting gin and tonics, I was going to try that but the bartender recommended I have a vodka tonic instead. Mine's the one with two lime wedges."

Jon put his arm around Gray's waist, as nonchalantly as he could, and took a sip His careful relaxed and detached stance was marred slightly by Gray's wild eyes and flushed face. Jon dropped his arm; Gray grabbed his hand to hold it in his own before Jon could go too much further away. 

The show started in earnest and they paid attention to the small stage. Jon and Gray still held hands. Gray even kissed Jon's temple at one point. 


	7. There's such a chill

It had been a few months since Jon and Gray had started officially dating, over a year since they first had met. Gray was lingering at the coffee shop until Jon was done for the day. It had been a habit. Jack didn’t mind too much. 

Jon still took his proper cigarette break. Gray disapproved as much as was possible without actually saying anything. He didn’t follow Jon outside. He tried to balance giving Jon space and being around. He did his level best to take up as little room as possible, this huge man trying to fit himself down to fit into what was available.

Jon called it after the last customer was gone and the bulk of the equipment cleaned. He kissed Gray on the cheek. “Where are you going?”

“I was thinking just...chips?”

“Sounds good,” Jon said. He shivered a little in his light jacket. He had his scarf to keep him warm, but it wasn’t enough.

Gray kept looking at him, eventually putting his arm around Jon as they walked. “You’re so cold.”

“I’m used to it,” Jon said. That answer didn’t make Gray any happier. 

“Do you believe in curses?” Gray asked, as he stole a chip from Jon’s plate. 

“No,” Jon said.

“Superstitions?” Gray said.

“No,” Jon said.

Gray waved a vague circle in the air above them with his partially eaten chip. “Generations of knowledge passed down under the heading of a curse but it's actually just common sense and good advice?”

“I feel like there's something specific that you're getting at,” Jon said.

“There’s knitting curses.”

“Really?”

Gray nodded solemnly. “You're always so cold and I just really want you to be warm and cozy and I have just the idea in mind of a jumper I want to make you.

“That's lovely. I mean, it seems like a lot of effort,” Jon said.

“Well, and that's the idea of the curse. If you give someone a hand-knit sweater, they'll… they'll break up with you.”

“I'm not breaking up with you, Gray,” Jon said.

Gray gave his best approximation of a scowl. “Martin.”

“No, I'm Jon."

Gray laughed.

Jon made the effort to use his boyfriend’s… his friend’s… he used Gray’s actual first name. “Martin, I'm not going to break up with you if you make a present for me.”

“No, but it's just… it's the kind of gift that takes so much time and effort and what if it didn't even come out right? What if you didn't like it?”

“You'd grow bitter and resentful and break up with me,” Jon said.

“Exactly. That's even more effort,” Jon said.

“You've already made me that scarf. it's lovely,” Jon said.

“You keep saying everything is lovely.”

“Everything you touch is lovely,” Jon said. “Everything else is shit.”

Gray laughed.

“So, you brought up this curse that is actually a fear of resentment to lead to something?”

“Yeah,” Gray said. He sounded so miserable Jon just wanted to hug him.

“Martin… Gray,” Jon said. “Martin the Gray.”

“No,” Gray said. 

Jon cleared his throat. “I don't know if I should ask will you be my boyfriend or aren't you already my boyfriend given this conversation, but. You are my boyfriend, right?”

“Right. If you want me to be,” Gray said.

“Of course I do,” Jon said.

“Not really an ‘of course’ kind of thing,” Gray said.

“I sort of thought that when you gave me the scarf,” Jon said. “I just never said it. To you.”

“To me?” Gray said. “You’ve told others?”

“I might have told Georgie and Melanie that you’re my boyfriend,” Jon said. “And Jack said it before. Basically anyone I’ve spoken with. I know I'm bad about skipping steps sometimes, not actually saying things.”

“The scarf was just…” Gray said.

“Infatuation,” Jon said.

“Right. But this pattern, this idea… I've built up a whole scenario just to keep you warm and dry in something I've made for you.”

“I don’t see how that’s different from the scarf,” Jon said.

“It’s the dimensions. Measurements and adjustments.” Gray touched Jon’s wrist. “Thought and care and love…”

They sat in silence, letting the words settle. “I think I'm not the one who skipped a step there,” Jon said.

“I’m not going to say I love you the same night we formally declare we’re boyfriends.”

“Of course,” Jon said.

Gray ate another chip. “Just because I’m not saying it doesn’t change how I feel.”

“I love you too,” Jon said. 

Gray froze, eventually melting with the smile that spread across his face.

“So, I guess I’m not going to get that sweater,” Jon said, trying to divert the subject just a bit. He felt seen. Gray was barely blinking, his blue eyes starting to tear up. 

“Afraid not,” Gray said.


	8. We hope your rules and wisdom

With as guileless eyes as he could, Gray suggested that Jon come work at the library with him. There had been a vacancy for a while, a rotating one as people seemed to find it difficult to work under Gertrude. Jon was qualified (at least as much as Martin G Blackwood was) and he’d enjoy the work more. His hair wouldn’t constantly smell of coffee. He wouldn’t have to deal with nearly as many customers. He wouldn’t have to deal with very many people at all.

Gray even offered to refer him, then acknowledged that it might be odd for his boyfriend's recommendation to hold any weight. They didn't want to hide their relationship. It was Gray's honest opinion that Jon would excel at the job. 

Jon applied. He interviewed with Gertrude who seemed to just glare at him. Jon met the rest, Michael who was indeterminately aged, Sasha and Gerard who he’d actually already met through Gray. There was no way that they could lie about their relationship. Jon didn’t want to.

Jon tried to obliquely hint about it to Gertrude, ask about conflicts of interest and departmental policies. She let him keep talking, face stony and impassive. “That’s all fine,” she said finally.

“What is?” Jon asked

“We’ll be in touch.” She held her hand out to shake. Jon expected her to break his hand. It was perfectly proper. 

Jon gave Jack the courtesy of letting him know that Jon was considering leaving. Jack seemed perfectly fine with it, almost relieved. Jon waited until he had the offer from Gertrude to formally give notice. Gray had known that he would get it.

The last day he worked at the coffeeshop, Gray lingered until Jon clocked out. “Are you going to miss it here?”

“Of course,” Jon said.

“Are you going to make me tea every day?”

Jon laughed. “Of course not.” 

“What, I have to make my own tea?”

“Or come in here,” Jon said.

Martin looked away. “I still will, you know.”

“I know,” Jon laughed. “Gray… Martin. It’s fine. This is going to be good.”

Gray rested his forehead against Jon’s. “Now I need to come up with a new name for you, since you’re not a barista any more.”

Jon pulled back and took Gray’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Jon said. “Bookworm with a braid?”

“I’ll think of something,” Gray said. They walked out of the cafe, hand in hand.


End file.
